


don't dream / it's over

by crownedcirce



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, it's not just ash who protects eiji okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcirce/pseuds/crownedcirce
Summary: Sometimes, Ash had nightmares.





	don't dream / it's over

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a small drabble as my first contribution to the bf fandom. 
> 
> Anyone who knows me from other fandoms knows that 80s and angst are pretty on brand™ for me, so it's safe to say that i got bit by the banana fish bug pretty damn firmly. 
> 
> The fic title comes from ["Don't Dream It's Over" by Crowded House](https://youtu.be/J9gKyRmic20)
> 
> This is short but I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> You're welcome to come yell at me on [tumblr](https://punktsuki.tumblr.com/)

Sometimes, Ash had nightmares. 

Sometimes he’d whimper. Sometimes, he’d cry. 

It was still an odd thing, Eiji thought, to see this side of the boy who had been sleeping soundly next to him only moments ago. The boy who had actually been sleeping next to him in their bed for three years now. When they had met, the idea of living alone together in their own place had seemed like it were several universes and lifetimes away. It hadn’t been possible. Eiji hadn’t even been aware that he would have liked it to be.

When they had met, Ash had seemed to him like he could take on anything. He did take on everything that came his way. Ash was the strongest boy he’d ever met, with the pent-up potential for violence always simmering beneath his cool surface. And yet, he was also the most beautiful. He was beautiful in the same way that deadly things were beautiful, Eiji had thought. He was in control, always assessing those around him and if need be, he’d bite. 

It’s not that Ash isn’t strong in these moments when he cries out from the dark, constraining grip of his dreams. It’s in these moments, where Eiji can see Ash’s fragility, that he knows more than anything else that Ash is strong. Stronger than he is. He knows that he has let down his guard just enough for Eiji to see it. 

Sometimes, in the dark, it takes Ash a moment to remember that. He is strong. 

It’s a different brand of strength that Ash displays when nobody else is around. Eiji tells him this every time, his voice a soothing whisper as he eases Ash’s rushed and ragged breathing that peaks and falls like the cutting edge of a serrated knife. Eiji knows that he feels like he is drowning in flashbacks and memories and the suffocating, gut-twisting feeling of hands all over him in the dark. Eiji knows that Ash feels as though he is struggling for air and that the covers on their bed are too heavy on his chest right now. He needs to get away from the blood and shit and dirt, and he needs some space, but he needs Eiji so much closer too. 

When they had first moved, Ash could only sleep with the light on. Not that Ash would tell anyone that. At first, he hadn’t even mentioned it to Eiji. He had just coincidentally forgotten to turn it off every night. When they had first moved in three years ago, Ash would only sleep if there was a gun on his bedside. Some nights, Eiji would wake to find Ash’s side of the bed cold and empty. Sometimes, he’d find him on the couch or on the floor in their living room shaking himself to pieces, alone. 

Tonight, he screamed. Eiji knew Ash was strong. But, by the way that his voice strained, hitched, and broke as it hurried out through his throat, he couldn’t help but think that it must hurt. 

He shrieked, his voice as shrill and as cracked and broken as Eiji knew he saw himself to be.

It wasn’t true, of course, not the way Eiji saw it. 

Eiji couldn’t see in the dark but he knew that those green eyes had snapped open and that Ash was clutching the covers as he panted in terror, trying desperately to escape the grit and the grime of a reality he had left behind.

Eiji’s vision was peppered with coloured specks as he blinked. His eyes almost-frantically fluttered, adjusting to the lack of light in the room. He had to gather himself up enough in order to attend to Ash and pick up those pieces instead. He rolled over, feeling around in the dark. 

“Ash?” He whispered softly as his hand caught the familiar texture of his boyfriend’s mop of hair. It was drenched in cool sweat. He felt Ash’s body shivering underneath his touch. 

“Ash,” he repeated as he sat up a little, kicking the covers off the both of them. He knew Ash often felt weighed down at times like this. “Ash, are you awake?”

Nothing. 

Just the sound of broken sobs and his attempt at quieting them. 

“Ash, baby?” Eiji scooped one arm under what he assumed was Ash’s back. His bear skin was clammy, sticky in stale sweat and panic. He pulled Ash into his own chest, guiding his head to rest just below his sternum. “You’re here now, baby, it’s over. I’m here. I got you,” he soothed, running the tips of his fingers through the damp strands on top of his head. 

“You’re here,” Ash confirmed in a shaky voice. “Yeah.” Confirmed, nodding mostly for his own sake. 

“It’s over,” Eiji committed. “You’re okay.” 

“Sorry,” Ash apologised. He always did. 

“Please, don’t be. This isn’t your fault.” Eiji continued to brush his fingers through blonde locks. His other hand came up to gently brush the worry line between Ash’s brows. He knew it would be there by the rattled tone of his voice. 

He always did worry that his night terrors would create problems between them. Eiji thought it did the opposite. It also allowed Ash to be looked after for once. He needs it, despite how much he argues otherwise.

Ash simply nodded after a moment of deep inhaling and exhaling. His breathing began to slow. He drifted back into a dreamless sleep as Eiji traced the lines of his face, making a mental map and filing every detail of his deadly, beautiful boy to memory.


End file.
